Mr. Marlboro'
leaned there, listening to Miss Murray's singing within. Eloise went and
took her place beside him, while his face brightened. He had been eating
opium again, and his eyes were full of dreams. From where they stood
upon the piazza they could see the creek winding, a strip of silvery
redness, along the coast, and far in the distance where it met the sea,
a film upon the sky, rose the dim castellated height of Blue Bluffs,
like an azure mist.
"There is something there that I want," said Eloise, archly, looking at
the Bluffs.
"There? you shall not wish twice."
Then Hazel approaching, as by signal, offered Mr. Marlboro' a cup, which
he declined without gesture or glance, while there gleamed in her eye a
subtle look that told how easy it would have been to brew poison for
this man who had such an ungodly power over her fate.
"That is my little maid," said Eloise. "I have lent her to Mrs. Arles
awhile, though. Is she not pretty,--Hazel?"
"That is Hazel, then? A very witch-hazel!"
"Yes."
"And you want Vane?"
"Yes, Mr. Marlboro'."
"I did not know she was your maid. But the offence of Vane, if
overlooked, would be a breach of discipline entailing too hazardous
effects. Authority should never relax. What creeps through the iron
fingers once can creep again.
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